All
by Ogre At Seven am
Summary: Marcus' thinks too much, Percy just sleeps. Short, abit fluffy MFPW slash. Don't like, dont read.


Just a thing that sort of trickeled out of my head while staying up too late listening to Flower of Scotland and was supposed to study for an exam in celtic studies (hence Flower oc scotland). Im a bit proud over it since its the first short fic I've ever written, I usually need three pages just to clear my throath.Im not that fond of songfics but when I was updating it I realised that it sort of reminded me of a song called All by K's choice. Thanks to Sliver for beta reading.

_"Is there anything you want from me _

_my arms, my life, my energy _

_I don't know how far I can go _

_Everything says no _

_But you know how it goes when _

_You're used to your side of the bed _

_I know you don't belong in this room but you're here now _

_ so what can I do? _

Marcus knows Percy is far too good for him.

Way too pretty and every morning he is surprised that he still wakes up in the narrow bed in the small (_but tidy, oh so tidy_) flat with Percy's head pillowed on his shoulder and his arm slung across Marcus' stomach.

It surprises him that Percy hasn't realised yet that he deserves so much better than Marcus. He's so pretty and sweet and uncomplicated (_in some ways, very much less so in others_). How he deserves someone who isn't nothing but trouble and who could make their... Marcus won't use the term "relationship", official without fearing that his dad might kill them both, someone who could hold his hand in public and who doesn't hit him from time to time, Marcus doesn't mean to, it's just that sometimes Percy _says_ things, things that hurt or come too close and Marcus doesn't know how to respond, he just knows that Percy has to stop _now_ or he'll go insane and he doesn't know what to say but if Percy doesn't stop _this instant_.... so he slaps him and it's always so much harder than he had intended it to be and Percy always recoils and falls abruptly silent, his eyes watering from the pain and Marcus just hates himself even more for doing it but he cant help it and when he tries to explain all the words get stuck in his throat and he can't get anything out and he so badly wants to take Percy in his arms and hold him but he knows he doesn't deserve to do that.

So every morning he wakes up surprised (_even if, happily so_) to find Percy sleeping peacefully with his head on Marcus shoulder, features slack, mouth a little open, sometimes dribbling all over Marcus shoulder. And Marcus watches his sleeping face, mapping all the freckles over the bridge of Percy's long, thin nose, the prominent jawline (de_spite Marcus' best efforts to coax_, _tease, bribe and simply force Percy to eat, he's still far too thin_) the long gold- red, almost colourless eyelashes and his ears leopard-spotted with freckles and he's amazed. He knows, however, that this is just a matter of time. Soon his dad will have decided (_some people think_ _it's ridiculous to be twenty-one and still afraid of your dad but they never met Marcus' dad_) that he can't just be reserve Quidditch player for the Fallmouth Falcons forever and he will decide that his son will move back home and become what he should have become from the beginning. And Marcus knows that if his dad ever finds out about _this_, about this beautiful, beautiful boy right now sleeping in his arms, then...

So he has to protect Percy. He has to make sure that no one sees them together and he can't be seen in public holding Percy's hand (_although that has happened on a few occasions when he_ _wasn't really realising he was doing it, he just felt oddly happy and reassured_) because if somebody who knows someone sees them...

Because if anything were to happen to Percy he would go mad, he can't admit that during the bright hours, but here in the early morning light he can at least admit as much and the arm circled around Percy's back tightens around him protectively, if something were to happen to Percy and if it was his _fault_ he would die. Because thinking of living without Percy is so horrible he doesn't even want to imagine it, pretending he doesn't fear it, that he doesn't wake up in the dead hour of the night, heart beating furiously and images of blood, red hair and freckled skin painted on the insides of his eyelids and he knows that eventually it will happen.

Some day Percy will understand how much better he deserves and leave Marcus for someone who will treat him right and remember their anniversaries and give him a present or at least a card for Valentines Day and who will refer to Percy as "my boyfriend" and leave sweet little messages in the cereal bowl after breakfast and Marcus knows that sooner or later this is going to happen because, _really _he doesn't deserve Percy so he can't become too attached to Percy. He has to realise that this is only temporary and ignore it when Percy teases him about being bald as an egg by thirty (_which is so much more likely to happen to Percy because Arthur is_ _getting really bald now and Marcus dad still has quite a good mop of hair left_) just as if he thinks that he was going to be around to see it, and he has to pretend that Percy means nothing to him, so that maybe, when Percy is taken away from him, it won't hurt so much, he has to act like he doesn't care so that nobody can see it and use it against him, because once you like people, once you _need _them it makes you weak and if you're weak you can be used.

Only the strong ones survive.

Only those who care for no one and nothing and who feel nothing are strong and he has failed that so he hates the swirl of emotions Percy wake in him.

He hates that pang in his stomach, just as if his entrails turn over, every time Percy smiles that damnably pretty smile and he hates Percy for being so cute, he hates him for how the sound if his laughter makes Marcus' heart flip, he hates him for being so good at eating with chopsticks and he hates him for trying to learn Welsh and Japanese from stupid phrase-books and actually managing quite good, and he hates him for being so clever and he hates him for being able to sing, both drunk _and_ sober (_and it actually sounds_ better _when Percy's drunk because he's more relaxed and not so self_-_conscious then, even if, admittedly, Percy isn't drunk that often_) and he hates him for those adorable little noises that Percy makes in his sleep, which isn't exactly talking but still some sort of speech, and he hates him for how he smells just in the back of his neck, and he hates Percy for having freckles in the small of his back, on his elbows and ears but most of all he hates Percy for making him _feel_.

He liked it so much better when he was all numb.

And then Percy shifts in his sleep pillowing his head better on Marcus' shoulder and Marcus can't do much else but marvel that he still is here in this narrow bed in the small (_but tidy, oh so tidy_) flat and that Percy's warm body still is entangled with his, Percy's arm around Marcus' stomach, his own around Percy's back and he thinks that maybe, maybe this isn't so wrong as he makes it out to be, maybe in fact this is, in a strange sort of way, right.

And Percy dribbles some more on his shoulder and he wipes it away from Percy's soft mouth, careful not to wake him because he has to look after him and make sure he eats and sleep properly just as he knows that Percy does when he attends every game Marcus plays, standing on the ground clutching a blue Fallmouth Falcons scarf with his thin white hands, eyes following every movement Marcus makes. Because somebody has to watch out for him and even if Marcus pretends that he thinks it's a ridiculous habit he's still very happy about it.

So Marcus nuzzles closer to the sleeping Percy burying his face in his red hair feeling way too happy for his own good and tries to go back to sleep.

_All that I am is _

_all I was taught to be _

_all that you are is _

_ a wall between myself and me _


End file.
